Fuel to the Fire
by reminiscent-afterthought
Summary: Wind fueled fire. Fanned it. Kept it going. Expanded it. Sometimes, that was a good thing. But not always. Karen/Aoki.
1. Prompt 003: Abstinence

**A/N: **Written for the seven_virtues challenge on lj for the pairing Karen/Aoki. Also posted on lj (link to journal in profile).

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**Fuel to the Fire  
Prompt #003: Abstinence**

There were certain disadvantages to working as a copy editor, Seiichiro reflected, and one of those was the endeavours into unfamiliar and uncomfortable territory simply because the author he worked for could not do the necessary research himself. Elsewise he would never have found himself en route to Flower…or any Soapland for that matter.

He supposed he should consider himself lucky the author was not interested in finding out the inner workings of a brothel; he didn't think his composure would survive the strain. As it was, heat has rushed to his face upon the request – which had ironically come by _email_ of all things – inviting concern from several other occupants of the floor, including their supervisor who had chosen an inopportune moment to check on his cohort.

The females had teased him relentlessly for days following, particularly when they discovered he had avoided divulging their interest by using his cell to make several calls before securing an appointment. That, sadly for the females and mercifully for Seiichiro himself, meant less ammunition.

Not that it helped matters; the fact that he was visiting the Soapland "Flower" to interview a Soapgirl there (and perhaps do something _more_ as was jokingly speculated in the office setting) became common knowledge. Really, it was remarkable they weren't following him.

He considered stopping and looking around, but decided against it. That would only feed paranoia and his nerves had no need for extra excitement. As it was, the fresh wind to his back told him there was no-one behind him, stragglers or otherwise. Intentionally, he had chosen a time wherein the Soapland would be accommodating few customers; most who frequented the area did not do so at half-past six in the morning in Winter. The season was coincidental; the time was not. He had suggested it, knowing Flower opened at six but business didn't really start to flourish until seven on a good day.

But apparently it wasn't a good day because business was already in bloom by the time he passed through the doors as there was a lady in lingerie and a mop of curled brown hair upon her head waving off a man in a pin-striped suit. She looked amused as Seiichiro made his way to the desk.

'Looking to relax so early in the morning?' she asked. 'You don't look much like a night-owl…or like your sex life is lacking any.'

The comments made the blood rush to his face faster than that which had triggered the entire situation.

'No,' he managed after a short pause, hoping he wasn't giving any wrong implications by his answer. 'I'm here to talk to someone. A Kasumi Karen-san?'

That was the name that had been given to him; the woman who had agreed to be his informant.

The brunette found the brief exchange quite amusing, even as the receptionist (somewhat more professionally composed) rang for the requested Soapgirl. Luckily though, she left the man alone and disappeared.

A few minutes later, another woman in lingerie, this time pink-haired, appeared in the hallway frame.

Sadly, she looked just as amused to his reaction to her attire.

'Why don't we go somewhere more comfortable?' she suggested.

He wouldn't have agreed if he'd read the statement properly; instead, he had naively taken it at face value and thus wound up seated at a desk chair opposing a bed.

* * *

He accepted the cup of tea before beginning his interview, starting general as he didn't want to appear overly…pushy. Something about his manner though must have amused the other because she was smirking by the time he reached the details of her job.

It was a question he really hadn't wanted to ask, but it was an important one. And it appeared his aversion was well-founded when the answer came.

'Would you like me to show you instead?'

Seiichiro thanked his foresight that he had avoided looking too closely at the Soapgirl due to her somewhat uncomfortable attire. He knew it wasn't _wrong_; his job after all entailed doing as such and his wife knew of his endeavour and trusted him…but he was a man and like all men he was not perfect and so avoidance seemed the safest defence to possibility.

It was also why he simply sipped at the tea, despite being fairly certain an established Soapland would not resort to drugging or purposely intoxicating their guests. But such things were adept at lowering one's defences and paving the way for temptation – and he was a married man with a wife he loved with all his heart and a child about to come into the world.

'An explanation will suffice Kasumi-san,' he responded, keeping his tone perfectly level as he focused on the tip of his pen.

The silence that greeted him made him look up, thinking momentarily he had insulted the other without intention. He was met however with a melancholic look masked by something else. Something he couldn't quite name, but had seen in his nephew's eyes back when he was young and first in Hinoto-hime's service. Back when he had decided that it was she he would defend with his life.

But then she blinked and the glimmer was gone.

'You're not blushing,' she observed, before laughing as the other subtly averted his eyes from her face. 'You're married?'

'Yes. My wife is seven months pregnant as well.'

'I see.' Her smile contained something sad as she voiced her congratulations, ending with: 'You ought to give yourself more credit.'

It was Seiichiro's turn to blink.

'You're here with a beautiful woman and yet I can see you love your wife,' she clarified, referring to the tone in which he had answered her question. 'And you're intentions are all business.' She lightly swirled her tea. 'Your wife's one lucky woman.'

Seiichiro was spared reacting when his cell-phone rang.

'Excuse me.'

'Of course.'

* * *

The Soapgirl carefully drank, eyes never leaving the other as he quietly conversed on the phone.

A moment later, he hung up and turned to her, tone apologetic. 'I'm afraid we'll have to continue this another time. My wife just went into labour.'

'Oh dear.' She gasped. 'Two months premature?'

Seiichiro was running through the information he had collected thus far to keep himself from panicking. After all, he would have to drive to the hospital with steady hands. Karen watched him still; the way his lips were moving, she had an inkling to what was racing through his mind at that moment.

'I'll call back later,' he said, quickly gathering his stray notes and briefcase. 'I'm sorry, I-'

The other waved him off. 'Call when you're ready; you know where to find me.'

At least it would be something to look forward to, even if she could never enjoy his company to the extent she hoped for in a passing moment. For most men who passed through her doors quickly fell to charm, and that in itself defined a lack of character, a lack of substance…and of virtue. Not that she was a Goddess herself, even if her physical appearance was to be envied even amongst her workmates. A fallen angel perhaps was an appropriate analogy – except she was darkly reminded the devil was a far better one.

And it was natural for the devil to be attracted to their antithesis, the angel that could not be touched and glowing with virtue. Or should not perhaps was more accurate; he was a married and faithful man, and she had a deep respect for such character.

Such people were rare, and she remembered every man like that she had met.

And she highly doubted she would be forgetting any time soon.


	2. Prompt 007: Diligence

**A/N: **Written for the seven_virtues challenge on lj. Also posted on lj (link to journal in profile).

In my version of X/1999 Karen calls her Teddy Mr Teddy, but as I'm using the honorfics that would translate to Teddy-san. Interesting as that's less personal than Teddy-chan or Teddy-kun, but while those can translate to an affectionate "Mr Teddy", I'm going with the Teddy-san for a reason unrelated to this prompt-fic.

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**Fuel to the Fire  
Prompt #007: ****Diligence**

Seiichiro had to admire Karen's diligence; it was clearly a job unbecoming to her nor one she enjoyed – this he was certain of as he'd bumped into her in front of "Kamui's" old home during her work hours – but when she worked, she did it well. He did not know that from first-hand experience, repeatedly turning down her offers, but he had interviewed several customers in the main longue and found them well satisfied with her performance.

'Why do you work here?' he asked, accepting the tea she had made for him. Several meetings later, things between them were more at ease, and the questions more personal as the editor reached the core of what his author had requested. His first question was however, despite original intention, not for the benefit of his employer but for his own curiosity.

And it seemed Karen understood that, as her smile was melancholic when she answered, fingering a pendant Seiichiro until then had considered a mere accessory. 'There isn't really a place for me in anywhere you would call respectable.' Her eyes drifted to a corner of the room, resting on a shadow artfully concealed. If one wasn't looking in that precise spot, they would not be able to see the fuzzy outline.

The Soapgirl saw him looking, and her smile stretched – although for what reason Seiichiro could not fathom.

'Would you like to meet Teddy-san?' she asked, voice becoming almost tender as she stood, bed creaking under the absence of her weight, and went over. She had a coat over her lingerie that afternoon – he had been unable to secure consecutive early appointments as Karen wasn't scheduled work all mornings of the week.

She picked up the worn stuffed bear and brought it over, seating it carefully beside her.

Seiichiro looked at it. 'Konnichiwa, Teddy-san,' he said, bowing his head at the bear before turning back to the Soapgirl. 'He looks well taken care of.'

'Arigato,' Karen responded, petting it atop the head. 'That's not what many people would say,' she added after a thought.

'Oh?' The editor was still carefully inspecting the teddy-bear; it looked similar to the one he had kept from his childhood to dote upon his first-born child…along with new ones of course. But the worn and faded and far less glamorous one had sentimental value the newer ones lacked…and Shimako agreed with him. In fact, she did the same, bringing along her own treasured stuffed animal from her childhood: a lion cub who was sadly somewhat bold from age. Lack of hair was after all far less becoming on a teddy-bear than a lion, even one of small size.

Something must have shown on his face at that thought, for Karen was giving him an amused look. 'Something funny?'

'I was just thinking about my own childhood teddy-bear,' he replied. 'Looks almost as worn…actually, a little more as I was prone to giving it accidental hair-cuts.'

'With your razor wind?' Karen asked, lips turning up in a genuine smile.

Seiichiro's eyes widened slightly before returning to normal. An easy lead into a very different concentration.

'So you're involved in the end of the world as well.' The question remained unanswered: a Dragon of Heaven…or a Dragon of Earth?

'I'm one of the Seven Seals,' the Soapgirl said anyway. 'As I assume you are.' She rested her chin on a palm, elbow sinking into the mattress beside her. 'Family man you are and all.' The quirk in her lips was very different from the earlier one. 'Ironic really; for the longest time I wondered who I wanted to protect, seeing as my own mother hated me like the Devil…'

Her voice trailed off and to his horror Seiichiro found her eyes shining with unshed tears. Automatically, he offered his handkerchief to her.

She thanked him and took it, dabbing at her eyes and smudging the make-up. 'I look a mess,' she laughed, looking at the smudge.

'You still look beautiful,' Seiichiro countered automatically, before quickly amending: 'I mean – you know –'

'You know…' Karen regarded him. 'If another man said that to me, I'd consider their choice of pick-up lines to be rather abysmal.' She cast a quick glance at the teapot. 'I'll make some more.'

'Go ahead.' Seiichiro could see the Soapgirl needed time to recollect herself. 'Teddy-san will keep me company.'

'Yes.' She said to the bear. 'You will look after Aoki-san, won't you?'


	3. Prompt 002: Kindness

**A/N: **Written for the seven_virtues challenge on lj. Also posted on lj (link to journal in profile).

Also (for some shameless advertising :)) Phoenix to Flame and I have the first chapter to our first collaboration fic: Nocturne Apocalypse, out. Please check it out, under the penname Resonate Flame.

Enjoy.

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**Fuel to the Fire  
Prompt #002: ****Kindness**

Karen smiled in thanks as the copy editor held an umbrella over her head, covering her from the onslaught of pouring rain.

Seiichiro frowned back at her, a mix of worry and disapproval. 'You shouldn't be out here in this weather.'

'I know,' she sighed, pushing a little extra drama into it. 'It's ruining all my makeup.'

Only someone looking particularly closely at her would be able to tell that fact; her pink hair glistened with the unfallen drops intertwined within its locks. Her lips glistened too, if a little paler than the red lipstick she had applied that morning. Her blush was slipping down her cheeks as well, but the shade so closely matched her natural skin that it was very difficult to place from afar.

Seiichiro opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. 'Aren't you at all concerned you might catch a cold?' He quickly eyed her attire for emphasis; it was apparently not a work day as the lingerie was absent, however a sleeveless knee-cut dress with no leggings underneath was hardly appropriate for a pre-winter rainstorm. Particularly as it had been mentioned in the news report the night before.

Not that the weather reporters had particularly good accuracy when it came to forecasts. But common sense stated it better to be safe than sorry and so Shimako had (by means of verbal reminders) equipped him with a umbrella before he left…even if she could barely get out of bed and it was her elder sister attending to her needs about the house as she recovered from her C-section.

Seiichiro had managed to take a week off in the thick of it, but unfortunately his job was too demanding to allow any further "family" time…and he simply couldn't afford to leave. After all, he had a daughter as well as a wife now to support.

As for how he'd managed to bump into Karen outside of one of their scheduled interviews…well, as the party of the house not confined to a bed, shopping fell upon him as well. Hence the three plastic bags hanging from two wrists.

Of course, that in no way explained Karen's presence just beyond the cemetery.

To the question, she shrugged. 'Tea has always been good at warding of chills, and besides – ' She looked around, but the street was deserted except for the two of them, and so she conjured up a flame around her. 'A silly little rainstorm isn't about to put my fire out.'

The fire slowly evaporated in the rain.

Karen smiled. 'Not particularly convincing, is it?' She raised a hand and collected the flame in it, closing her fist thereafter and leaving the scene as it had previously been. 'Colds are no big deal.'

Seiichiro's look did not waver. 'I would think a pyrokinetic would dislike being wet.'

'The old wet matchstick.' Karen laughed at the thought; now that wasn't such a pretty image. 'That doesn't mean I can't enjoy that cool feeling on my skin.'

'It didn't look like you were enjoying it,' the editor said bluntly, pushing the umbrella into her cold hands.

'And you?' She was curious, and maybe touched as well. Perhaps if she were younger, more innocent, a cute blush would be crawling across her face. Of course, her line of work had long since teased such inappropriate reactions out of her.

'It's somewhat difficult to carry shopping bags as well as the umbrella,' Seiichiro pointed out. 'And my home's not too far from here.' He bowed to her. 'I had better be going now; Yuuka's needing new diapers and –'

Karen giggled at the thought of the man in front of her changing diapers, but the shining look in his eyes as he mentioned his daughter's name brought about a different sort of feeling within her.

'Without your umbrella?' she asked. 'I don't think your wife will be pleased in the least if you go home with a cold because you left your umbrella with a woman?'

'She wouldn't mind if I stopped said woman from catching hypothermia,' Seiichiro responded, looking at his watch. 'Oh dear, the line was longer than usual too –'

'I'll walk you,' Karen interrupted, watching the man work himself into a minor fluster.

'And the store was out of – huh?'

'I'll walk you,' the Soapgirl repeated. 'It's the least I can do after you stayed out of your way and loaned me your umbrella.'

'Uh…thank you,' Seiichiro said finally, leading the way slowly, Karen holding the shade over them both.

'I think your wife would mind, if you wound up catching hypothermia instead. You're…too kind.'

Seiichiro laughed. 'Shimako's telling me that all the time too. But this world could use some more kindness.'

'That it could.'

Beyond and around, the rain continued to pour.


	4. Prompt 005: Patience

**A/N: **Written for the seven_virtues challenge on lj. Also posted on lj (link to journal in profile).

Aya is an OC, just named conveniently after Aya in Ayashi no Ceres (or Ceres, Celestial Legend if you're more familiar with the dub).

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**Fuel to the Fire  
Prompt #005 – Patience**

Karen accepted the mocha from her colleague.

'So?' the blonde Aya slipped into the booth opposing her, leaning over the table with her strawberry shortcake nudged between them and a fork stabbing her half.

'So what?' the other responded, sipping at the lip.

Aya smirked at him. 'You seem to have a new love interest. Does an interview _really_ take that long?' Her tone implied she suspected that time was used for other endeavours.

'Not at all,' Karen replied. 'It just so happens his wife had a baby and he was forced to delay.'

The smirk faded slightly. 'Wife huh.'

'And trust me, I've _never_ seen a guy so endowed to his wife.'

'That's too bad.'

Karen shrugged. 'The good guys are always taken. No-one'd want to wait around for the devil to snatch them.'

'Or a vixen to seduce them.'

The other could not help but laugh at that statement. 'You liken me to a _fox?'_

'Why not?' Aya shrugged. 'We all know you can be fierce if you want, and we also know your looks are something to be envied.' She reached over the shortcake to seize a lock of reddish hair, tugging it gently. 'I can't believe this colour's natural.'

'It is.' Honestly, Karen had never really thought much of her hair colour. She supposed if she had lived a normal life it would have raised a great deal of teasing, but as it was she found herself being forced to miss or else skipping on too many occasions to count for inability or fear…until that day she woke up in a hospital bed with the pieces of her life finally lay out for her to see.

After that, she lived with the kindly old Priest who had found it in his heart to safeguard a sacrificial lamb from the slaughterhouse for as long as he was able. He died in a few years, but by then the age of compulsory schooling had come and gone…and she never went back, instead choosing to follow the path of seeking other sorts of knowledge. The type that could not be found in a school. That could not be found under any shelter.

And there were few ways one could do that without a degree, but she had no problem with this one. Her body was her own to do what she wished, and until she gave it to another it held no value as an aesthetic appeal. Still she crossed no lines; she safeguarded her honour for a person she would finally surrender it to, a person she would give the world to defend, and defend the world for him.

'That's a shame,' the blonde sighed, pulling back and spearing a bit of shortcake on her fork. 'And to think, you've got the best chance at a playing field too.'

'I'm not interested in a one-night stand,' Karen said calmly, taking another sip of coffee and letting the warm liquid steal down her throat.

'You'll never find a long time relationship if your standards are narrow enough to include only people who are already spoken for,' Aya pointed out.

'It's hardly like I know they're married when I first meat,' the other responded. 'As for how many they are, I could count them all in a hand.'

'Barely,' the blonde said, before giggling as a thought crossed her mind. 'This one makes five.'

'Yes..' Unlike Aya who was amused, Karen was thoughtful. 'The red tie of destiny that stems from the fifth finger.'

A coincidence…or fate?

'You don't believe in destiny, do you?'

'Yes, I do.'

Aya blinked in surprise, before pursing her lips slightly. 'That's a bore,' she complained. 'Where's the fun in the future being written?'

'What does that matter when you can't see the future?' was the response. But even as Karen spoke, she remembered of those who _could_, those gifted or perhaps cursed to watch the future unfold before its time and then again in their powerlessness to stop it.

But she did not have that power. Instead, it was fire she governed. And so she had to be content to wait for her future to unfold as she walked, ever so slowly, towards it.


	5. Prompt 004: Chastity

**A/N: **Written for the seven_virtues challenge on lj. Also posted on lj (link to journal in profile).

Last line reference to Fruits Basket. Tohru explaining to Kyou how it's easier to see the virtues in someone else than in oneself.

* * *

**Fuel to the Fire  
Prompt #004 – Chastity**

She thought about keeping the umbrella. Not permanently, but long enough to invite a little stir to the blend. Enough to make the other man _want_ it back, so that her impression could be left upon him.

Not that she intended to take advantage of such a situation, even if she was so callous to believe love and faith to be equal in worth to a material object.

Funny, she mused, scrutinising the plain black waterproof cloth and the metallic frame. She had expected a more oriental style umbrella, the ones with oiled washi paper, wooden frames and calligraphy on the rim and handle. After all, he was from the Windmaster clan, affiliated with Ise Shrine.

Perhaps it was impractical to wander around with an umbrella made from paper, even one with a special oil base to make it waterproof. Or maybe it simply stood out too much in the general population, even though she saw a great number of them. Some from those who hailed from or were affiliated with shrines themselves – the old families mostly – and then tourists who bought them from souvenirs, some forgetting that wood could not be taken back to their home country from overseas. And then there were establishments, old-fashioned restaurants and such, that also used the more traditional artefacts.

Most others preferred the more traditional look; it was only certain people, certain areas. Shinjuku was one of the leaders in the Western trend; a traditional umbrella would look a little out in that crowd. And of course they lacked the convenience of being collapsible.

Now that she thought about it, it was strange a man with a tame personality chose to live in ritzy Shinjuku.

And she only knew that, and the exact whereabouts of his family apartment, by calling the office number Aoki-san had left behind when arranging the initial appointment. That resulted in a little chit-a-chat with the receptionist who had taken the call (and consequently providing a little more teasing material when the copy editor returned to his desk – he had taken a sick-leave that day) before extracting the necessary address.

After all, it wouldn't do if that was the only umbrella he owned, considering the weather reports promised downpour for the next several days.

And so, with address in hand, her own umbrella in tow (the discussion from the previous day was fresh on her mind) and guilt ticking her gut, she walked to the apartment building and knocked on the right-most door on the highest residential level.

A woman answered it, looking far too old to be Aoki-san's mother and far too young to be his wife.

'Are you a friend of Shimako-chan?' she asked.

Shimako-chan: that must be his wife.

'Oh no.' She bowed in greeting. 'Kasumi Karen. I'm here to return Aoki-san's umbrella to him.'

'I see.' Her voice dropped a few degrees, but it was only because Karen was so well versed in subtleties that she succeeded in picking it up. She thought nothing more of it; it was understandable one would assume the worst of her intentions due to the nature of her job. Nor could she blame them; it was not as though her mind was pure. 'I'm afraid Seiichiro-kun's not well enough to have visitors, so –'

'Who's at the door Onee-chan?' Another woman came into view, sharing similar features to the older one but somehow kinder. More toned down.

'The woman from that Soapland returning Seiichiro-kun's umbrella,' the apparently older sister replied.

'Ahh.' The younger's voice held nothing but friendliness. 'Kasumi-san, yes?'

'Yes.' She bowed again in greeting.

'I'm Shimako, Seiichiro-s wife.'

Somehow , the two younger women found themselves on the couch with a warm pot of coffee between them.

'Thank you for bringing Seiichiro's umbrella all this way.'

Karen dismissed the sentiment. 'It wasn't far at all.'

'It's the thought that counts.' The glance she gave implied she meant more than the face-value of that statement.

Karen noted the glance, and the words that accompanied. 'You're very lucky to have him,' she said eventually.

'Yes,' the new mother replied softly, looking off to the side on reflex – or so it appeared. 'Even if the time we spend together can be very little, I'm very fortunate to have married and fallen in love with him.'

It was an interesting order to list in.

'Our clans arranged the marriage,' Shimako explained; Karen assumed something in her face must have shown. 'As per tradition we did not meet till the day of the marriage. But our families aren't so set in the old traditions to only accept the marriage when a baby is consummated from it.'

'I'm afraid to say I know very little about the ways of the traditional Japanese clans,' the Soapgirl responded, lifting a hand to the cross around her neck.

'Even within the one society there are many divisions.' The woman nodded in understanding. 'In another setting perhaps I may not have had the luck, or perhaps destiny, of meeting him so I could love him. Even now we can never say whether we were fated to love each other or whether we simply learnt to do so.'

'I think that is a question that may be resolved soon,' Karen said slowly, thinking about the kekkai birthed between her palms and the apocalypse looming in 1999. A kekkai to protect the one she loved most of all in the world, useless when there was nothing left to protect. A Seal that defended Tokyo not ultimately for the sake of spurning the human race towards survival as a whole but for the one person they would sacrifice everything for.

In that year, if not earlier, she would know who that special person was. _Know_, not simply assume. Imagine. Dream…

'Are you also a part of the end of the world? One of the Seven Seals: a Dragon of Heaven?'

Karen nodded; of course Aoki-san would have told his wife.

'Then look after him for me. When the time comes, I'll trust my husband to you.'

The Soapgirl gave the other woman an odd look.

'I have a little power,' Shimako said, gesturing to the light that shone above them. A little of it faded, the tip of her index finger stealing a little of that glow. The index finger then traced the air, marking a symbol in its luminescence before fading away as it failed to activate. 'Enough for a few simple "light" spells, but I'm not one of the seven. I'm not involved with the end of the world, and so I cannot follow him and make sure he stays safe while he fights for humanity and the person most precious in his heart.'

'That person is you,' Karen said quietly. 'He talks so fondly of you it cannot be anyone else.'

Shimako smiled. 'Even Yuuka?'

Their daughter.

'I'm afraid I have little experience with how a parent should act towards a child,' the Soapgirl responded. 'But she will be only four when the time comes.'

'Yes. Four is far too young for the world to end.' A sad smile graced the other's lips. 'Or to lose her father to a war, even if it is only for a short time and he still comes home to dinner every evening.'

'I'll look out for him.'

The smile became more relieved. 'And you, Kasumi-san? Do you know the person you create a kekkai for?'

'No,' was the reply after a moment's thought. 'But maybe…an idea…even if it is a foolish one.'

'There is no foolishness in destiny,' Shimako countered. 'Or dreams.'

Wailing interrupted their conversation at that point.

'Ahh, that would be Yuuka.' Shimako stood, using the couch as a support. Karen was instantly up to help her; the older sister poked her head around from the kitchen and then retracted it. 'Would you like to meet her? I'm sure she'll like you.'

Karen considered, and accepted. It turned out that Shimako had been right as well…at least about Yuuka. Apparently endearment from the month old baby translated to having one's hair gently tugged along with happy burbles. Dislike on the other hand translated to ear-shattering shrieks.

All in all, Karen was perfectly fine with losing a few strands of hair in getting acquainted with baby Yuuka.

Karen left the Aoki apartment bearing Shimako's thanks and her own umbrella as company. She remembered their kindness: his kindness, her kindness…even that of baby Yuuka who found it in her new heart to endear herself to a complete stranger such as herself. One who could so selfishly tear apart the happy family for her own interests, the tug from her own strong, red or a false luminescence.

Maybe she could have too, if she could find any notable fault in the woman fortunate enough to be Aoki-san's – Seiichiro-san's – wife. If she could find a hole in the fortress of love. If she could dismiss her own faults…

…or maybe if she could simply accept the virtue, the small purple plum in the back of her riceball.


	6. Prompt 001: Humility

**A/N: **Written for the seven_virtues challenge on lj. Also posted on lj (link to journal in profile).

This one was giving me trouble. But it's finally, if obscurely, done.

* * *

**Fuel to the Fire  
Prompt #001 – Humility**

Karen's unintended meeting with Shimako accomplished several things. Mostly, it got her thinking on several trains: how things could have been if she had the fortune of meeting him first, who she would create a kekkai for in 1999…and the slight doubt that had inhibited the mother's tone when she alluded that maybe she would not be the one her husband would create a kekkai for.

The present was such a murky thing she could fault no-one for such doubts. Her own future, back when she had been young and in her mother's care, had not in the least resembled the life she now led. And before that…she had dreamed of entering the music industry, perhaps studying at the university or taking professional lessons…

But she had contended herself with the choir every Sunday at the church, even now that the kindly Priest had passed away.

In a way, her singing was a sign of respect for him, but in another it was an outlet. Not like her work; that was both a necessity and a rebellion against the box her mother had drawn. Singing was something…else. Gentle symphonies melting with youthful voices seeking something… They all appeared innocent, but she doubted many were, deep down. Some she passed quite regularly; one she knew was with nothing but a body which she could sell. A job that paid well but took just as much – they had spoken once.

The woman said the choir was the only way she could cling to some shred of dignity and self-worth from her past.

She could have come out of it. Used the money she earned within the first few months to buy a better life, or the means thereof. But the same applied to herself; a Soapgirl's work did not pay as well as a prostitute's, but it also took less away. It would therefore, understandably, take a little longer – but she was one of Japan's own and could have settled something. She had enough for a dowry; it wasn't impossible to find somebody willing to marry. Paperwork could be forged; the Soaplands were at the edge of the red-light district after all. Statuses could thus be lifted…and really, if she had been willing enough, she could have gone through education programmes and tutelage and eventually entered a more respectable job.

Somehow, the desire – no, _need_ – for that rebellion was strong enough to override that. But for her, still, there were boundaries that had to be drawn. Lines that were not to be crossed. Like with all people, even if the lines were drawn in different places.

If there was nothing within herself she could love, then she could give that love to no-one.

But beyond that, there were thoughts of honour, and red ties in a web of destiny. And she wondered what Aoki-san thought of the situation…and her.

Then she half smiled, remembering the umbrella: the scolding words.

He probably thought of her like a child that needed care.

She wondered if he would see her as a woman when they met at the end of the world. A part of her, a cruel selfish part, still wished it to be so. The rest of that fire had however dampened down; the only way she could offer her love to him was if he declared he did not love his wife. Anything else would be a devil's sin…

…and that was more than a childish rebellion.

So was her work, but she no longer possessed the passion for something more.


	7. Prompt 006: Liberality

**A/N: **Written for the seven_virtues challenge on lj. Also posted on lj (link to journal in profile).

Last one. :) And what do you know: it's the shortest.

* * *

**Fuel to the Fire  
Prompt #006 – Liberality**

As a child she had oft wondered how love felt to the heart. Even in her adulthood she found herself wondering so on occasion. She had met many people, most through the church or her line of work, but few were memorable and fewer still were ones for which she could proclaim love.

It was difficult to say, at her age, whether she loved her mother or not. Whether she loved that kindly priest – for she was certainly grateful to him and he warmed her heart, but the ticking feather that few others provided were absent.

She hadn't noticed until the interviews were finally concluded as well as their temporary acquaintance that Aoki Seiichiro was in fact the only person she knew to fulfil all criteria she had attributed to love. The fluttery feeling in her chest. The warmth in her heart. The heat in other areas of her body. The fantasy to be in his heart despite the aversions that stood in her way – and somehow, that tiny bit of her was stubborn, no matter how she pushed and shoved at it. But most importantly, it was important to her that he was happy.

Which is what had led her to ask him in their final meeting: 'are you happy?'

Aoki-san had appeared surprised at the question, but his answer had been affirmative and honest.

She smiled at that and said her farewell.

Seiichiro was somewhat taken aback by the abrupt farewell; he knew their business was over, having extracted all the information his writer required, but somehow he hadn't expected their parting of ways to be so…abrupt.

He also could not grasp why it was so important; he had met many other people in such interviews after all. Some of them he could not wait to get away from – even if he would only mention that fact to his wife. Kasumi-san however proved to be a far more appeasing companion, even if she did possess an ability, somewhat like Shimako except with a fiery flare, to fluster him at the best of times.

Eventually, he had to admit they had developed a friendship of sorts and he would thus miss her.

Perhaps that was what prompted him to leave his card with her when they departed – forgetting she already had his contact details from the little interlude wrought around his umbrella.

The Soapgirl however accepted the slip of paper. He however did not receive a call from her till 1999.


End file.
